РозыгрышТекст песни: DJ Format - 3 Feet Deep feat. Abdominal and D-cisive
[Abdominal
We’re ready to begin so grab your spot on the floor
Because if you didn’t know my name is abdominal and im a sophomore..
Format released lots in store cos we dropped again but this
time with a slight twist…I brought a friend.
“Also hailing from the snowy north shores of canada Format fans
I introduce to you the man of year but I would even stretch so
far but as to say the decade
watch him go crazy when the record plays so please join me ladies
and gentlemen in giving your nicest format welcome to emceeeeeeee
d-cisive.”
{oo thank you, thank you, no really your too kind}
D-cisive
Since nineteen eight to the o I’ve been taking control
blazing the glow with the blue flame flow
On a chase for the throne with the flow so dope an
smooth you’d think I was a toupay’s owner.
….An I cant stop… til my names known an I got love like Ray Miverone?
hip-hop proclaim, illest master of ceremone ever born on canadian soil.
Even if I got a sore throat and a cold sore formed to the corner….
of both lips makin it harder to open my mouth and blurt out these
“dopest hits?”
I’ma rock til I don’t exist alongside Abdominal and Format
watching the crowd throw their hands up like “four shacks?”
Ab
Abdominal flipping the intricate like asian origami, behind me
a wake of devastation like a course of tsunami’s and swarming
armies couldn’t force me from my chosen path.
A juggernaut with the microphone in his grasp.
Chorus
Check {check} the {the} way {way} that {that}
You cant see us like needles in haystacks.
When {when} we {we} rock {rock} mic’s {mics}
Monkey’s know where to focus the spotlight.
On {on} d {d} si {si} sive {sive}
and abdominal then amplifly the hype’ness.
with the beat {beat} by {by} disc {disc} jocks {jocks}
Fomat we’re not just tight we’re zip-locked.
Calling all cars, we just got warning d-cisive and abdominal’s on the song…
taking the love in their own palms back to back in a pose similar
to Jean-Claude
Super imposed in the poster as both men playing his own twin
brother in the blood.
We making room for the lead so follow man, q man, you unamimously
called on this
olive tanned jew with this new map borderline albino crew for
your musical needs.
Cos if I looked up beats, we weave effortlessly in and out of
snares bass kicks coming tighter than a cher face lift “Do you
believe in life after love” I hope so cos
Once you touch the mic you get no love from any zone yo, grab
the mic and just drop your fucking poem.
Ready to blast off and blast y’all with just one strum,
like Luther Vandross getting handjobs from a tanned blonde with
her pants off but her hands on his man sausage in his own tour
of the sandwich.
Chorus
“Y’all cats rap fast, I cant grasp that, all them big words I
done thought I miss heard.
Then I rewind y’all words a second time, abs, d-cisive, format
sorry boys but your crap.”
Abs will pick up the paddle to kick off this lyrical tabble tennis
spit safely like phlegm in a sink of a “people?” dentist.
And I could win a mic fight by using the same line twice, ripping
me is like a mic fight…
Versus vincent van go sorry van goch even the bluesberry doughboy
b‘he’s too damn soft.
Abdominy ziggy star, y’all cant touch us like a dirty tampon with pants on.
The illest cant comment easy to see, we getting played all the
way to the BBC.
Leaving you 3 feet deep like a dead midget, floating in the river
like a widget in a guiness….
Pissed cos he couldn’t make the swim team. So just swam his final
race…up shit’s creek.
So don’t forget we crazy swift “I’m Eddie Burnstein” “an I’m Derek Christe”
Start pissed off we’re kids who spit soft, rip offs contaminated
hip-hop with shit songs….
like kriss-kross to carisney? Pit stops when we’re in the mix PAUSE.]
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[Abdominal
We’re ready to begin so grab your spot on the floor
Because if you didn’t know my name is abdominal and im a sophomore..
Format released lots in store cos we dropped again but this
time with a slight twist…I brought a friend.
“Also hailing from the snowy north shores of canada Format fans
I introduce to you the man of year but I would even stretch so
far but as to say the decade
watch him go crazy when the record plays so please join me ladies
and gentlemen in giving your nicest format welcome to emceeeeeeee
d-cisive.”
{oo thank you, thank you, no really your too kind}
D-cisive
Since nineteen eight to the o I’ve been taking control
blazing the glow with the blue flame flow
On a chase for the throne with the flow so dope an
smooth you’d think I was a toupay’s owner.
….An I cant stop… til my names known an I got love like Ray Miverone?
hip-hop proclaim, illest master of ceremone ever born on canadian soil.
Even if I got a sore throat and a cold sore formed to the corner….
of both lips makin it harder to open my mouth and blurt out these
“dopest hits?”
I’ma rock til I don’t exist alongside Abdominal and Format
watching the crowd throw their hands up like “four shacks?”
Ab
Abdominal flipping the intricate like asian origami, behind me
a wake of devastation like a course of tsunami’s and swarming
armies couldn’t force me from my chosen path.
A juggernaut with the microphone in his grasp.
Chorus
Check {check} the {the} way {way} that {that}
You cant see us like needles in haystacks.
When {when} we {we} rock {rock} mic’s {mics}
Monkey’s know where to focus the spotlight.
On {on} d {d} si {si} sive {sive}
and abdominal then amplifly the hype’ness.
with the beat {beat} by {by} disc {disc} jocks {jocks}
Fomat we’re not just tight we’re zip-locked.
Calling all cars, we just got warning d-cisive and abdominal’s on the song…
taking the love in their own palms back to back in a pose similar
to Jean-Claude
Super imposed in the poster as both men playing his own twin
brother in the blood.
We making room for the lead so follow man, q man, you unamimously
called on this
olive tanned jew with this new map borderline albino crew for
your musical needs.
Cos if I looked up beats, we weave effortlessly in and out of
snares bass kicks coming tighter than a cher face lift “Do you
believe in life after love” I hope so cos
Once you touch the mic you get no love from any zone yo, grab
the mic and just drop your fucking poem.
Ready to blast off and blast y’all with just one strum,
like Luther Vandross getting handjobs from a tanned blonde with
her pants off but her hands on his man sausage in his own tour
of the sandwich.
Chorus
“Y’all cats rap fast, I cant grasp that, all them big words I
done thought I miss heard.
Then I rewind y’all words a second time, abs, d-cisive, format
sorry boys but your crap.”
Abs will pick up the paddle to kick off this lyrical tabble tennis
spit safely like phlegm in a sink of a “people?” dentist.
And I could win a mic fight by using the same line twice, ripping
me is like a mic fight…
Versus vincent van go sorry van goch even the bluesberry doughboy
b‘he’s too damn soft.
Abdominy ziggy star, y’all cant touch us like a dirty tampon with pants on.
The illest cant comment easy to see, we getting played all the
way to the BBC.
Leaving you 3 feet deep like a dead midget, floating in the river
like a widget in a guiness….
Pissed cos he couldn’t make the swim team. So just swam his final
race…up shit’s creek.
So don’t forget we crazy swift “I’m Eddie Burnstein” “an I’m Derek Christe”
Start pissed off we’re kids who spit soft, rip offs contaminated
hip-hop with shit songs….
like kriss-kross to carisney? Pit stops when we’re in the mix PAUSE.]
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